Echoes of the Rain

a room fill with regrets

Yoonsoo entered the room, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency. "Mother has regained consciousness, and she's asking for you, Yuri."

Seema stood up quickly. "Let’s go," she said, glancing at Yuri.

Yuri followed hesitantly, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. As they stepped into the hall, she noticed the cake placed neatly on the center table, adorned with red roses and candles. The servants had gathered, their faces alight with warm smiles, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere earlier.

Yohan’s mother approached Yuri, her frail hands reaching out to take Yuri’s. Yuri stiffened slightly, the unexpected gesture catching her off guard. "Come, Yuri," she said gently, guiding her toward the cake. Together, they held the knife, and as their hands pressed down, cutting through the soft layers, applause erupted around them.

Everyone smiled, their joy echoing through the room. But Yuri stood frozen, stunned. The same woman who had once made her life unbearable, who had spared no effort to remind her she wasn’t good enough for Yohan, now treated her with a warmth that felt foreign. She couldn’t understand it. Was it guilt? A change of heart? Or something else entirely?

Yuri glanced at yoonsoo, who stood silently nearby, his expression unreadable. Then her eyes shifted to Seema, who clapped along with the others, her smile genuine. Yuri’s gaze finally fell on Yohan’s portrait, his radiant smile captured forever in the frame.

The moment felt surreal, as if she were trapped in a dream where love and pain, grief and forgiveness, all mingled into one overwhelming wave. Tears welled in her eyes, but she swallowed them back, keeping her emotions tightly in check.

For now, she stayed silent, letting the moment unfold around her, unsure of what to feel or say.

The celebration had ended, and the quiet hum of the night settled over the house. Yuri turned to yoonsoo ,her voice composed yet distant. "Ok, sir, I’m going now," she said, gathering her things.

Before yoonsoo could respond, Yohan’s mother entered the room, her presence commanding yet softer than before. "It’s already 11 now, Yuri. Please, stay here tonight," she said, her tone almost pleading.

Yuri shook her head politely. "No, I can manage, ma’am."

"Ma’am?" Yohan’s mother sighed, stepping closer. "Please, Yuri… don’t call me that anymore."

"But ma’am—" Yuri began, only to be cut off again.

Yoonsoo interjected, his voice steady, "Mother, I can drive her home if that makes things easier."

Yohan’s mother hesitated but eventually nodded. "If you must. But Yuri," she added, her voice trembling slightly, "please, call me mother. It’s not much to ask from a woman who only has a few days left. Just… please, Yuri."

Yuri clenched her fists, her emotions battling within. The word felt heavy on her tongue, laden with years of pain and bitterness. After a moment of silence, she finally whispered, "…Mother."

In an instant, Yohan’s mother wrapped her frail arms around Yuri, pulling her into a warm embrace. The hug was unexpected, yet it carried a sincerity that struck deep. Yuri stood frozen for a moment before the warmth melted the barriers she had carefully built around her heart. Tears spilled from her eyes, unbidden, flowing freely like a dam finally giving way.

She didn’t even realize yoonsoo had approached until he gently offered her a handkerchief. She hesitated but took it, dabbing at her tear-streaked face.

Yohan’s mother cupped Yuri’s face, her own eyes glassy. "Please, take care," she whispered, her voice soft but resolute.

Yuri nodded, unable to speak, her throat tight with emotion. She glanced at yoonsoo, who gestured subtly toward the door, signaling it was time to leave. As they stepped out into the cool night, Yuri’s heart felt heavier yet oddly lighter—a strange mix of grief, forgiveness, and the faintest glimmer of closure.

The drive was filled with an oppressive silence, broken only by the faint hum of the engine and the occasional patter of rain beginning to fall. Yoonsoo glanced at Yuri, her face turned resolutely toward the window, her reflection blurry against the glass.

"Are you alright?" Yoonsoo asked softly, his tone cautious.

Yuri didn’t turn to face him. "Yes," she replied curtly, her voice betraying the tears she was holding back.

Yoonsoo tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Then why are you crying?" he asked, his concern breaking through the quiet.

"I don’t know…" Yuri’s voice wavered. "Please, just don’t talk to me."

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with emotions neither could articulate. Yoonsoo respected her request, allowing the quiet to stretch between them as the rain began to fall harder. Drops streaked the windows, mirroring the tears she refused to let him see.

When they finally reached Yuri’s home, the rain had intensified, creating a steady downpour. Yuri opened the car door abruptly. "I can go from here," she said, stepping out into the rain without waiting for his response.

"Yuri, wait!" Yoonsoo called after her, opening his own door and running after her. "Yuri!"

She didn’t stop until he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around to face him. Her face was drenched, though whether it was from the rain or her tears, he couldn’t tell. "Are you out of your mind? What are you—"

Yuri cut him off, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "It’s suffocating… I can’t breathe! Can you hear me? It’s suffocating! Every second I spend in that house is unbearable for me. To stay under the same roof with that person I hate the most…" She paused, her chest heaving with the weight of her words. "Her arrogance, her hatred toward me… It killed my only family. My only reason to live!"

Her voice broke on the last word, and she turned away from him, trembling. Yoonsoo stood frozen, her pain reverberating through the storm around them. "Yuri…" he began, his voice soft, almost pleading, but he stopped himself. He didn’t know what to say, how to comfort her when the wounds were so deep.

The rain continued to pour, washing over them as if trying to cleanse the pain that hung in the air. Yuri pulled her wrist free and stepped back, her eyes reflecting a storm fiercer than the one above. "Don’t follow me," she whispered before walking toward her apartment, leaving yoonsoo standing alone in the rain, his hand still reaching out toward her retreating figure.

At the office, the atmosphere was bustling with activity as employees settled into their tasks. Yuri entered quietly, her movements sluggish and her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She placed her bag on her desk and sank into her chair, her body language speaking volumes.

Miko, her colleague and desk neighbor, noticed immediately. Her brows furrowed with concern as she turned to Yuri. "What happened to you? You don’t look good to me," she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Yuri waved a dismissive hand, forcing a faint smile. "Nothing much, it’s just a cold," she replied, her voice barely audible as she avoided Miko’s gaze.

"Just a cold?" Miko repeated skeptically. She leaned closer, studying Yuri’s pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. "Look at your face in the mirror, Yuri. You’re as white as a sheet."

Yuri let out a soft sigh, rubbing her temples as if trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her. "It’s nothing, really. Just didn’t sleep well," she said, though her tone betrayed her attempt at nonchalance.

Miko wasn’t convinced. She pulled a small mirror from her drawer and held it up to Yuri. "See? This is more than just a cold," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "You’re clearly not okay. Did something happen?"

Yuri glanced at her reflection reluctantly. The face staring back at her looked drained, as though carrying the weight of a thousand sleepless nights. She quickly looked away, lowering her head. "It’s just... life," she murmured.

Miko frowned but didn’t press further. "Alright, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?"

Yuri nodded slightly, grateful for the concern but unwilling to open up. She turned to her computer, hoping to lose herself in work and escape the thoughts that had been haunting her.